


Pinioned

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knows just how to offer Stiles control - by taking it from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinioned

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Larenia and Heard_the_Owl for encouraging all the Teen Wolf feelings.

Stiles did not have even the slightest hint of a single clue what was going on now. _They_ had one of their pack meetings – which always reminded Stiles of boy scouts, which made him laugh, because they were like wolfy boy scouts sometimes – and he was hanging around like always, just listening to some music and avoiding homework some more where Derek was suddenly there in front of him and just _watching_ him in that weird intense way he sometimes had.

“What?” Because challenging the guy who really can take your throat out with one blow is a good plan.

Derek didn’t growl, or sneer, and the blank look of disdain that Stiles knew all too well didn’t appear. He was smiling. Well. It was Derek. There was something light in his eyes and he wasn’t scowling all the way. He held out his hand for Stiles to take it.

“Get up. We’re done.” The words were brusque but the gesture wasn’t demanding and neither was his tone of voice. Because sometimes Derek forgot that Stiles wasn’t part of his little pack of wolves and ordered him about just the same. Like Stiles would obey without a protest. Like that would _ever_ happen.

“Already?” Yup. Knee jerk sarcasm reflex was still firmly in place. Stiles had been here in the rundown house in the woods for almost an hour and he was itching to get going, get home, get some sleep or something.

Derek loomed over him and Stiles expected a short, sharp bark of an order. Instead Derek’s expression continued to hold that weird fondness and he actually kept his hand out while this odd, tense silence rose up between them. Stiles grabbed hold, unsure what he was actually doing, and Derek helped him up. Then it got really weird.

Derek didn’t let go of Stiles’ hand. Instead he pulled him forward, closer, until Stiles was standing so close he could smell the sweat on Derek’s skin. It should have been unpleasant but Stiles found himself breathing in the warm scent, some part of his brain responding in ways it really, really shouldn’t. He could feel the heat rising from Derek’s skin too. It made him want to step forward again, shake the chill of the old house from his bones.

Stiles always did have impulse control issues.

It wasn’t until he was almost toe to toe with Derek that he realised just what this must look like to an outsider. Stiles was holding hands with an older guy who was very, very attractive and standing so close he was almost licking the guy’s chest. Stiles tilted his head up to look at Derek and was now apparently something worth eating, as Derek’s face took on a peculiar hunger. It wasn’t like Stiles was prey, not exactly, but the look suggested he was something Derek might like to enjoy. With his mouth. Heh. Derek’s free hand came to rest on Stiles’ neck. Derek’s fingers curled around the bare skin, holding on in this tight and yet also gentle way that was miles out of Stiles’ experience. Then Derek took the hand he still was using to imprison Stiles and wrapped it around the small of Stiles’ back. He was caught tight.

Derek closed the gap between them. 

Pressed up close, Stiles could feel the solid, heavy pulse of Derek’s heart. Stiles felt it in his bones, through his entire body. Or maybe that was his own pulse rising up. Fear was part of this – Stiles’ lizard brain just _knew_ Derek was dangerous no matter how often rational brain explained – but there was something exciting about being held like this. About being under someone’s control and not having to worry about flailing out of control or anything. Even his words were lost and Stiles couldn’t think to say anything.

Derek bent closer and kissed him, light but determined. It was such a shock that Stiles almost didn’t respond until it was too late and Derek was pulling away again. Stiles knew he let out a small protesting sound, like a whimpering rabbit or something, and Derek came closer again. The kiss this time was a little more determined, a little more testing. Definitely more possessive. Then it turned fierce. And Stiles was parting his lips, shifting his hips, finally using his free hand to grab at Derek and hold on for dear life as he was kissed, hard and deep.

Stiles was panting when they separated, like he was the wolf. His lips felt strange, tingling and throbbing, and he ran his tongue over to soothe them. Derek’s eyes fixed on his mouth and Stiles did it again just to see what his reaction would be.

There was the sound of car doors slamming in the distance and footsteps coming closer, making the floorboards creak. It was probably Scott. Derek let go and Stiles felt at a loss, suddenly. He didn’t know how to stand, where to put his hands. He was awkward and teenage and sporting quite the bulge in his jeans.

“Stiles? You ready? We were going to grab a pizza.” Scott was sort of confused but, you know, nothing new there.

“I need to keep him.” Derek answered calmly. “My computer is having problems.” Now that was a lie. Definitely. Stiles had seen Derek’s idea of computers. He didn’t even have electricity around here half the time. “I’ll take him home.”

But Scott just nodded – he had Alison to go pick up – and left, quickly. Stiles held his breath until the noise of Scott’s footsteps vanished and the car started up and they were alone. All alone. Together.

Derek didn’t make a move towards him. He just crossed his arms and stood there, biceps bulging under the arms of his t-shirt. Prickles were racing over Stiles’ skin. He wanted to twitch and scratch and wriggle and he felt like he might fly apart at any moment. He needed something to hold him together. Fuck. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, not really, as he held his arms up, wrists together, and stretched them towards Derek in a silent plea. The words tumbling around in his mind would come out in a rush any time now. He knew how to use words, to ask/demand/annoy an explanation out of Derek but they weren’t making it past his throat. That was maybe the fear again.

There was a moment while Derek seemed to be thinking over what to do. Stiles was on the verge of lowering his arms when Derek reached out and wrapped one strong hand around his wrists. Then he turned and used the grip to lead Stiles wherever he wanted. Stiles could have broken the hold. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being kept like this, held, bound. It went against his natural aversion to authority which, coupled with his teenage rebellious side, normally meant Stiles would be pulling away as much as possible. Running screaming, probably. Definitely making some kind of verbal protest. Instead, he went along meekly, letting himself be led. It wasn’t like Derek was asking him to do this. Derek was offering. It was all in Stiles’ hands. He could call a stop to this at any point.

That was why they halted at the door to Derek’s bedroom. Beyond the open doorway, Stiles could see the big bed, all wrought iron headboard and rumpled white sheets. There was another offer here, one Stiles knew his dick was very interested in taking up. His conscience warred with itself a little.

“We- You-“ Derek still had trouble using his words sometimes. He really was the strong silent type.

“What? You stuck on pronouns?” The line was out before Stiles could censor it. Equally, the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one not entirely sure what to do made him settle. They were all in too deep with the whole alpha, life or death, being hunted by people with serious weaponry, werewolf thing. This was just going to be a fringe benefit.

Derek looked like he didn’t know whether to scowl or laugh. His perplexed expression made Stiles smile. Then he nodded and reached up to brush his mouth against Derek’s. “If I want to stop, yeah. But not right now.”

Derek led him into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. He dropped Stiles’ hands and pulled off his t-shirt in that plain, unfussy gesture that said he wanted to be naked as soon as possible. Stiles didn’t move. He couldn’t move. It was as if he was waiting for permission, for instructions, for anything. Derek watched him, eyes sweeping up and down, his long black lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

Time seemed to stop and equally move too fast after that. “Strip.” The word seemed bitten out, at the very fringes of control. Stiles still obeyed, mind racing as he dropped his clothes onto the bare floorboards. He nearly fell over trying to kick his shoes off and undo his pants at the same time. “Be careful.” His tone was softer now and Derek was closer, hands reaching out to run over Stiles’ bare skin. Like that was going to help with co-ordination and undressing and not falling over.

Then Derek’s hands were helping (clever long fingers) and then they were both naked and stretched out on the unmade bed (sheets smelling of Derek), their legs tangling and mouths trading biting kisses back and forth. Stiles knew he really, really shouldn’t be here but again his conscience, his busy mind, seemed to be offline and his need for Derek took over all his faculties. Derek’s skin was soft, supple under his splayed palms. The scars were roads for his fingers to trip down and Derek’s hair gave him something to hold onto and ground himself. It was so damn good.

The sudden loss of Derek pulling back made Stiles cry out, wordless and sharp. It took a moment for him to realise what was happening and then Derek was back, stretched long against his body, his tan making Stiles feel pale and pathetic. “Hey, no.” His words were reassuring but the crumpled tube he lay beside them spoke volumes.

“I’m… not saying no. But-“ Stiles could feel his eyes wide and round as he thought about everything Derek could possibly do with the lube made his want to beg and run screaming at the same time. Derek ran a hand up his side, warm and reassuring and Stiles felt a punch of heat that made his dick twitch.

“Lie back.” It wasn’t an order now. It was somewhere between a suggestion and a request. Derek knew what he was doing and Stiles let his heartbeat slow before turning onto his back and lying flat. Derek grabbed one of Stiles’ hands and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm. Then he leaned over Stiles, pulling the arm up and wrapping Stiles’ hand around an iron post. He repeated the action with the opposite hand. “Stay there.”

Calm, warm instructions. Stiles could follow those. He looked down the length of Derek’s body to check the reaction he was getting. He’d felt the hard silken length rubbing against his thigh, his hip earlier but seeing Derek’s reaction made Stiles feel less worried about the way his own cock curved up over his belly. Derek knelt up beside him. “Spread your legs.” That made Stiles balk. It took another slow kiss and a whispered “Trust me” before he could do it.

Derek swung over him and ended up kneeling between Stiles’ knees. There was no more preamble. Derek bent his head and sucked the head of Stiles’ cock into his mouth in one smooth movement. His hands captured the aborted thrust of Stiles’ hips and Stiles just let Derek hold him in place and swallow him down. Stiles brought a hand off the bedstead before quickly holding on again. He didn’t want to do anything, say anything, to make Derek stop. It was warm and wet and the pressure as Derek’s mouth worked its way up and down his shaft was heaven and hell and perfection all in one.

Derek was a sight to behold too, eyes half shut in concentration. But it became harder and harder to keep his eyes open to watch. Stiles knew he should be more embarrassed about how long he wasn’t going to last but he was a teenage boy. It was a blow job (his first blow job to be fair) and it felt so damn fucking good. He knew Derek was up to something as he pulled up and stabbed his tongue into Stiles’ slit. Stiles was almost dizzy with how good it felt. It was as if he was floating off the bed and the only thing anchoring him to the world was the heat of Derek’s mouth around his cock.

Then a slick finger was slowly circling his hole. Stiles had known this was a possibility but he hadn’t expected it to feel a) so arousing and b) something he wanted more of. He forgot his earlier hesitation and spread his legs wide. Derek slowly pressed his long, thick, clever finger in. At the same time, he sucked hard at Stiles’ cock. It was all too much. Stiles didn’t know which way to turn, to thrust. He felt overwhelmed in the best possible way and he tried to let out a warning as his cock seemed to get impossibly harder. Derek just lowered his mouth down further and waited, crooking his finger and brushing across something…

Stiles couldn’t hold it any longer. He shouted, something, and was taken over by a rush of white heat, a flash that blinded him, a rolling wave of desire and pleasure. When he came to, Derek was kneeling above him, fucking into his own fist. Stiles thought he should probably offer to help out but he doubted he could move his hands from the iron grip he still had on the bedstead. It didn’t seem like Derek needed much help as Stiles watched the flex of his muscles, the sweat glowing on his tanned skin. The way his eyes hungrily swept over Stiles’ own pale body. Finally their eyes met, once, and then Derek was coming over his own fist and spilling onto Stiles’ belly. Derek was… beautiful (although that was possibly an inside thought) as he came, all hard lines and straining, defined muscles. It was better than any possible porn.

When he was done (all too soon, sadly. Stiles needed to see that again and again. And then once more) Derek collapsed beside him, wiping his hand on the sheets. He was panting hard but his breath slowed as he watched Stiles, a small, nearly shy smile on his face. “You can let go now.”

“Don’t want to,” Stiles replied, arms still holding tight. “Kinda want to stay here until you’re ready to go again. To be perfectly fair. Because, fuck me. Seriously.” Stiles let his eyes sweep down Derek’s body to where Derek’s cock lay glistening between his legs. “Yeah. I want you to. Fuck me, Derek.” Basically that was all his brain could think about, beside the name Derek.

Derek leaned forward and kissed him, using his other hand to peel Stiles’ fingers off the bedstead one by one. The kissing was better than talking. When Stiles was finally free, Derek pulled back and rearranged Stiles to his satisfaction, holding him close across his chest. Stiles wondered if he should be worried that apparently he was the girl in this whole thing. Then he shrugged. He still had his dick and the orgasms were going to be great if Derek could put up with his hyperactive ranting.

Derek brushed his lips over Stiles’ hair. “Maybe if you’re good,” he promised.

“Yeah. Hello. Stiles Stilinski here. Bad is more like it.” Stiles muttered the words into Derek’s chest. Derek smelled good so Stiles kissed at the bare skin.

“That could work out too.”


End file.
